


Good Enough

by JazzRaft



Series: Dark at Night [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Noctis just wants to forget all of the old hurts, especially when he's around Nyx. But Nyx doesn't want to forget. Nyx wants to help. "Please let me take care of you?"





	Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/159116600512/noctis-has-chronic-pain-while-the-daemon) for an anonymous request.

He wanted to die.

He wanted to crawl into the deepest, darkest, dankest hole in all of Eos and just die there. Just pull the rocks down, dig into the dirt, and make himself a grave. Because that would be the only deliverance satisfying enough to extinguish this amount of mortification.

It shouldn’t have hurt. Nyx had touched him there so many times before and it had never hurt like _that_ did. The ache had been something he’d learned to live with a long time ago. He’d grown so used to it that most of the time he didn’t even really feel it. It didn’t impede the way he lived or the way he loved. It never stopped him from letting Nyx take him apart to the point of begging for more. Nyx could push and pull and _bend_ him any way he wanted and Noctis didn’t feel the pain because it was _Nyx_. He was so soft with him, so gentle, so careful, and yet, still so passionate.

Noctis wanted more of that tonight. More of that passion. To break their boundaries and get wild, go fast, get _rough_. He wanted to try something new because Nyx was perfect, and safe, and he trusted him enough to try things that he never would have wanted to explore with anyone else. Noctis had forgotten about that _one_ spot. No one had dug into him like that in a long time. Not since the first massage therapist they’d fired that made him cry as a kid.

Noctis was _horrified_ at the sound he made when Nyx’s fingers pressed deep at the base of his spine. He cried out like a kicked puppy and scrambled back against the headboard. He wrapped an arm around his waist, trying to reach back and knead the afflicted area. The look on Nyx’s face absolutely _destroyed_ him. He kneeled, paralyzed, at the other end of the bed, face stricken in panic that he’d hurt Noctis.

And Noctis wanted to die, wanted to vanish off the face of the planet because leave it to him to ruin a fucking mood with this stupid symptom of his scar. It had been so good, too. So _hot_ and _dirty_ having Nyx hoist him into his lap, _demanding_ that Noctis un-dress, barely giving him a moment to tear off his shirt before those hands were all over him, teeth biting at him, hips bucking up against him, nails raking down his back and hurting in the best way possible until it didn’t.

“I am _so_ sorry,” Noctis hastily apologized, feeling his face burning and not because of the fervent kisses he still felt upon it. “It’s this stupid scar, it doesn’t usually hurt that bad, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to jump away like that…”

Nyx’s face softened like it always did when Noctis was rambling and insecure and it made him want to cry because Nyx was _too fucking good_ for him. Things that would offend less attentive lovers, bounce off the wall of “well, great, no sex for me, I guess,” instead weaved right into Nyx’s head, contemplating all the ways he could remedy his partner’s discomfort. He was so damn considerate, always put Noctis’s care first, and Noctis thought that was so unfair. That he was so messed up and broken that every time he wanted to be good for Nyx, just be _normal_ and not have to work around his stupid issues, he fucked it all up.

“I’m sorry,” Noctis said again, shifting onto his knees and reaching back for Nyx, refusing to feel the ripples of pain that rolled through his back as he moved. “I’m fine, okay, can we just forget that happened?”

He curled his hands against Nyx’s bare chest, ducked his face against his neck and plead with kisses all along his throat that he touch him again. That he wrap him up so tightly in his arms and make him cry out for entirely different reasons. Noctis felt those hands dragging up his sides and he whimpered in delight, curving himself into Nyx’s body and kissing a little faster. He expected those hands to take him by surprise, grip his hips so hard that he left bruises and jerk them against his own.

But they kept traveling upward, lightly cupping his neck, thumbs resting just beneath the points of his jaw to crane Noctis’s head back. Away from where he was trying to ravage Nyx’s skin and antagonize the older man into taking him hard. Noctis moaned in distress when he was withdrawn from his task, looking up at Nyx and imploring to not make him stop.

“Not while you’re hurting,” Nyx said, thumbs brushing circles against his jaw.

“It doesn’t, it’s not that bad, I swear…”

“Noct.”

Nyx’s steely stare bore through him, all of that knightly discipline pinioning Noctis from his pursuit. Noctis felt a big black pit open up at the bottom of his stomach, sucking in all of his confidence that he could make this work. That he could get them both to forget this ruined part of him. He withdrew his hands from Nyx’s chest and folded them around himself, hugging the disappointment at himself back inside. He tried to avoid the concern in Nyx’s eyes, but the glaive was determined not to let him hide, curling his fingers beneath his chin, and tilting his face up.

“Come on, how ‘bout you let me take care of you?”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Noctis insisted, biting the inside of his mouth to stem the frustration from bleeding into his voice. “You’re my boyfriend, not my nanny. I just… want to be as good for you as you are for me.”

Nyx tilted his head to the side, confounded by the current of doubt beneath the words. “You _are_ good for me. Which is why I want to help. I _like_ taking care of you, Noct.”

Noctis chanced a glance at him, the last grain of doubt that Nyx had yet to dust away in him still half-certain he would find a lie in his eyes. But he never did. Not now, and not ever. A selfish, secret part of him liked the attention Nyx seemed to love lavishing on him. As much as Noctis wanted to feel like he shouldn’t need it, wasn’t _worth_ it, he still felt the imperceptible pull of want for it. Nyx’s grin was a magnet for that want; for letting himself collapse into his arms and let him do whatever he wanted to him. Even take care of him.

“You really mean that, don’t you?” Noctis murmured.

“Completely,” Nyx said, easing his face along the side of his, the stubble of his jaw itching comfortingly against Noctis’s cheek. “Please let me take care of you?”

A sigh shuttered past his lips, defeated by the deep thrum of affection in his voice. “I don’t think you can help with this,” Noctis groaned.

A smirk curled against the side of his face, Nyx whispering in his ear, “You never know. I’m full of surprises, little king.”

He eased Noctis onto his stomach, arms folding against the pillows beneath where he rested his head. The coarse pads of Nyx’s fingers dusted down along his spine, delicately testing the terrain that had become so familiar to him in the time Noctis had spent in his bed. His fingers slowly lowered to rest against his skin as he moved, tracing all the way down and all the way back up where he finally pushed gently into Noctis’s shoulders.

Small, easy movements to start, deft touches molding through the skin to coax the tension from within. It had been a few years since Noctis had stopped seeing physical therapists for the injury, but the sensation was still familiar. _Better_ even with hands that knew him as intimately as Nyx’s did. It had been hard to relax with professionals in the past. Noctis wasn’t great with strangers. Hadn’t been since he was a child and never really grew out of it. It was difficult to trust people enough to be this comfortable.

But Nyx he trusted with anything, _everything._ A development in their relationship that Noctis was still getting used to. That he felt like he could say or do or give absolutely anything to Nyx and the glaive would protect it. Cultivate it as a treasure he was love-bound to guard. A sliver of guilt pinched through Noctis for not telling him about what could hurt, but it was eased away by the careful ministrations. That was something Noctis hadn’t learned to get used to yet. That he didn’t need to feel guilty around Nyx. That the man could take everything in perfect stride and love Noctis all the more for it.

An involuntary hum of relief loosed from Noctis with the tension Nyx was chasing away, palms gliding over his shoulders, presses gradually travelling lower. He took his time, patient like few people ever had been for Noctis. One would think people would make all the time in the world for royalty, but there never seemed to be enough. Everything was so busy, so desperate and frantic, and Noctis never even knew what for sometimes. He liked _this._ He liked slow and savoring and _oh_ , he liked _that_ , right there, whatever knot that was that Nyx was unraveling.

After a while, he finally came to that annoying spot low in Noctis’s back. His fingers eased away from the angry flesh, brushing warily across the skin. Then Noctis felt a slow heat spreading from Nyx’s hand, warmth igniting across the muscle and soothing the petulant ache. Noctis made a surprised sound in the back of his throat, face turning to peer over his shoulder. Nyx’s hand glowed like an ember, bright and ruddy light burning just beneath his skin. Noctis could feel a pulse like the beat of campfire flames against where Nyx soothed along the area. Royal magic wielded as heat therapy.

A long, satisfied moan dragged through him as Nyx worked, the glaive flickering a glance up at him and smiling.

“Feel good, baby?”

“Love it when you call me ‘baby,’” Noctis said in a rough gasp, melting into the bed and burying his face between his arms.

Nyx chuckled behind him. Then, Noctis felt his lips brush behind his ear, the gravel of his voice spilling endearments and kisses in his hair as his hands continued to warm and work the pain away. Noct, baby, beautiful, my prince, little king, _mine_ ; each moniker stamped with a kiss. Each touch proof of his undying devotion.

“I don’t deserve you, Nyx,” Noctis whispered.

“Shush.”

There was a command in that doting dismissal. One that Noctis took into his dreams as he allowed his eyes to fall closed, allowed Nyx to massage him into slumber. When he awoke the next morning, he felt _good_. More than just relieved of his aches. He felt wanted with Nyx’s arm slung around him, his chest moving evenly with his breaths against Noctis’s scarred back. He sidled the back of his head beneath Nyx’s chin, the glaive unconsciously nuzzling into the tickle of his hair in his sleep.

Noctis smiled to himself in the pre-dawn light, and he felt like, even though he wasn’t perfect, he might have been good enough for Nyx. That was good enough for him.


End file.
